


amor vale

by orchid_spiral



Series: the machine turns [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Binge Drinking, Emotional Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Homicidal Fantasies, Multi, Nightmares, References to Past Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Strangulation, Vomiting, dark!fic, depictions of blood and gore, frequent flashbacks, hate!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2895068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchid_spiral/pseuds/orchid_spiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True love has always been hard to find, but there are plenty of alternatives, and often they're a better idea than one might think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. even in life

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here's something else I came up with. AJ/Paige is definitely a pairing that does not get enough love, so I decided to try writing something, and since it's me... yeah, it's dark as all fuck, so approach with caution. This is set after Hell In A Cell 2014, but a while before Survivor Series. The title is Latin for 'goodbye love' or 'farewell to love', and it's a reference to the amazing song 'Carne Vale' from Homestuck (and the chapter title is a reference to the song 'Even In Death', also from Homestuck). I hope you all enjoy this, and as always, if I've forgotten to tag something, please tell me so I can fix it ASAP. Happy reading. :)

AJ Lee is nobody’s plaything.  
  
Perched high above the ring among a sea of steel beams, the Divas Champion swings her legs like a child might and stretches, unfazed by the sheer drop below her. She tilts her head briefly, smiles, bunches up a handful of her shirt and starts polishing her title. It’s immaculate as always- she wouldn’t _let_ it get dirty- but the title’s become as dear to her as a child, or a limb, or a lover…  
  
Heh. Well. Maybe not a lover.  
  
From where she’s sitting, she can see everything below her: the rows of empty seats, the few backstage workers discussing tonight’s show, the ring, and its occupants: Paige and Alicia Fox, engaged in a practice match. As AJ watches, Paige hits a clothesline, but Foxy hits the mat, rolls and comes to her feet in seconds. She aims a kick at Paige’s stomach, but Paige grabs Foxy’s foot and pushes upward, sending Foxy crashing back to the mat again.  
  
AJ rolls her eyes.  
  
They can practice all they want. It’s stupid, really, the vain actions of utter idiots, because AJ holds the Divas title with an iron grip and she will never, ever let go.  
  
OK, admittedly, things didn’t go so well for her the night after Wrestlemania, and on Summerslam. But that was different.  
  
At that thought, AJ glares down at the pretenders in the ring, her eyes burning holes in the mat, but they don’t notice, too caught up in their match. Morons. They’re so unobservant.  
  
It’ll only end badly for them, that’s something AJ knows for sure.  
  
Alicia throws Paige to the mat, and AJ giggles. Foxy’s an idiot. To be fair, she’s far from incompetent- after all, she’s a former Divas Champion herself- but she hasn’t seemed to realise that she’ll never be able to measure up to AJ. AJ’s seen some of the NXT shows, and she laughed so hard that she was nearly sick when Foxy lost to Alexa Bliss- _Alexa Bliss_ , for fuck’s sake. Who loses to Alexa Bliss? No, there’s only one real opponent for AJ now.  
  
Paige. AJ’s hands tighten on the title, her knuckles turning white, and she stares down at Paige with a glare so intense that if there was any justice in the world, Paige would have caught fire from the hatred in AJ’s stare.  
  
Of course, maybe calling Paige a pretender is going a bit too far. Paige has genuine skill, AJ won’t deny that. It took skill to take advantage of AJ after Wrestlemania, skill to look unprepared and weak… and skill to take AJ down and wrest the title from her limp hands.  
  
And Summerslam… well. It was a good match, a fair fight. AJ won’t contest that.  
  
What she will contest is the idea that Paige is in any way her equal.  
  
Because she’s not. Oh, she’s talented, of course, but she’s arrogant, and devious, and so _infuriating_ , to think that she has any right to the title just because she’s better than the rest of the pack of morons who make up the Divas Division.  
  
AJ carefully sets the title down on the beam next to her, sighs, stares off into the distance, and-

 

  
- _imagines the slim, sharp knife, its plain black hilt a secure, reassuring presence in her hand. The point disappears as she lunges forward, plunging it into Paige’s eye until it hits the bone._

_Paige screams just once, and it makes AJ smile to hear it. She twists the blade viciously again and again and finally pulls it free, blood leaking from the wound in a thin red stream, the tang of sour rust filling the air._

_Paige is still for a second, and then she crumples like a puppet whose strings have been cut, hitting the ground with a_ thud _. Her other eye is glassy and lifeless, and AJ drops the knife and starts laughing, a thin, high cackle. She’s nearly doubled over, breathing hard, drinking in the sight of Paige’s corpse as she laughs, and she-_

 

  
-snaps back to reality as she inadvertently leans forward, nearly falling off the beam she’s sitting on. She grabs the edge and hauls herself back, regaining her perch in seconds.  
  
She’s not worried about Paige and Foxy hearing or seeing her. Even if they weren’t fixed on their practice match, nobody ever looks up. It’s a weakness she’s exploited before, usually with good results.  
  
So she cautiously leans forward again, hand on her chin, and considers the pair below her. They’re tangled up together in the ring, both trying to simultaneously break free and attack, and after a few seconds, they give up and pull apart, laughing.

Absently, she wonders if they’re fucking. Probably not. She can’t see Paige being Alicia’s type, but hey, why not? Stranger things have happened, and it wouldn’t be the first friendship she’s seen that started out based on sex. She could name a few names… but she won’t.  
  
On the same line, she wonders if they genuinely like each other. They do look like real friends, at least from where she’s sitting, but real, genuine friendships are almost unheard of in the Divas Division.

(Well, OK, real, genuine friendships that don’t end with someone getting stabbed in the back, that is.)

God knows she and Paige were faking sincerity up until Summerslam, though everyone knew it was fake, of course. They weren’t actually trying that hard to maintain the façade- why bother? They both knew what the other wanted, it was only a matter of time before someone broke the charade.

And yeah, OK, it was pretty damn hilarious. Until Paige had to go ruin it, of course.  
  
AJ winces, feeling the hand grabbing her hair again, though the sensation vanishes when she rubs the back of her head, and good riddance.  
  
Anyway. Lovers or not, friends or not, they can’t even hope to measure up to her. And they won’t. They’re delusional if they think they can.  
  
Far below, the mock-match comes to an end, Paige pinning Fox down. AJ watches, vaguely curious, until she shivers and looks around, a feeling like cold water running down her spine. 

There’s barely anyone around, and when she looks, nobody’s so much as glanced in her direction, but she can’t shake the feeling that someone, somewhere, has their eyes fixed on her.

She tenses, grabs the beam and carefully gets to her feet. It’s time to go. She doesn’t feel safe up here anymore.  
  
Of course, she has to wait a bit first. She doesn’t want to risk them seeing her.  
  
There’s nothing _wrong_ with watching, of course, but she knows nobody’s meant to be up here. The beams weren’t meant for spectators, and it was risky enough just getting here in the first place.  
  
So once the ‘friends’ have got up and embraced, talking loudly about each other’s moves, AJ walks lightly over the beams, humming softly and swinging her title.  
  
She almost feels like skipping.

  
  
Night falls and it’s time for _Raw_. Even though she’s the champion, AJ doesn’t have a match tonight. Even though she’s the best damn Diva the division’s ever seen. Even though none of the other Divas are fit to kiss her Chuck Taylors.  
  
For fuck’s sake.  
  
No, instead there are two matches: first, Naomi vs Nikki Bella- though Nikki’s pulled some Authority strings to make Brie do it for her- and Paige vs Eva Marie.  
  
The second match makes AJ roll her eyes again as she watches it from backstage. It’s not like it’s _hard_ to beat Eva Marie.  
  
OK, admittedly, AJ did lose twice, but that was only because Paige- that _bitch_ \- interfered, and the thought of those humiliating defeats makes her bite her tongue and think about how good it felt to beat Eva Marie down until she regretted even looking twice at AJ’s title.  
  
The thought of the title makes AJ look down abruptly, and seeing it safely over her shoulder helps her relax.  
  
She never quite feels right when her baby isn’t with her, where she should be. It helps her feel safe.  
  
As _Raw_ goes on, AJ isn’t quite paying attention. She’s focused intently on the screen when the Divas matches are on, if only to see how laughably bad they are. But aside from the Divas matches, there’s just one thing holding her attention: the commentary.  
  
_“It’s hard to say who’s crazier,”_ Lawler says laughingly as Paige skips around the fallen Eva Marie. _“Paige, or the Divas Champion, AJ Lee.”_

AJ’s expression doesn’t change, but her hands become tight fists and her gaze becomes intent as she stares at the image on the screen-

 

 

- _and imagines him sitting by himself in the locker room, so careless, so stupid, leaving himself open to any attack. She can’t believe that he was stupid enough to think that nobody would want to hurt him, but of course, it’s not stupidity, it’s arrogance. Lawler’s essentially untouchable now, and nobody will so much as raise their voice to him- well, nobody except Bray Wyatt, but Bray will never believe that other people's rules apply to him, and nobody else dares to cross the lines Bray does._

_Yeah, fuck that._

_He doesn’t look up as she slips in, and she moves like a ghost, sliding behind him as smooth as silk. She pulls the knife from her pocket, takes a deep breath and grabs his hair, pulling his head back roughly. He lets out a shout of pain and alarm, his hands going to his head, but she’s already moving, already got the knife to his throat._

_She brings it across in one long movement, cutting so deep it scrapes across the bone with a sound that makes her shudder, and blood spurts like water from a hose, ruby drops flying across the room. His hands claw at the wound and come away stained with blood, and he tries to scream, but no sound comes out._

_She drops the knife, steps away and stares down at him as he falls to the floor and vainly tries to get up. It takes a few seconds, but after the third failed attempt, he just… stops, and goes still with a quiet sigh._

_She cocks her head and smiles, like she doesn’t really understand what just happened._

_But she does. Oh, she does, and it makes her feel like singing. With her grisly task done, she turns to the door-_

 

 

-and shakes her head abruptly, frees herself from the daydream, and looks back at the screen.

Maybe one day she’ll finally do it, finally shut them up for good. One day. But not now.  
  
As she watches the show, people walk past her alcove constantly, and she doesn’t look up, doesn’t take notice until the constant babble abruptly cuts out.  
  
Confused, she looks away from the screen, and pauses.  
  
Paige is standing a few metres away, Foxy by her side, and she’s staring intently- but not at the title, at AJ, her gaze full of fury and determination.  
  
AJ turns away from the screen and stares back, her expression unchanging, her gaze not faltering, even though she can see all the people around them out of the corners of her eyes. It’s the usual useless ensemble of backstage workers and superstars she doesn’t care about, and they’re whispering to each other, confused, unsure if they should do something or not.  
  
_Stay back,_ she thinks. _This is between Paige and me._  
  
Fox is hanging on to Paige’s arm, grinning at AJ with that fucking stupid cocksure grin, and AJ wants to slap the smirk off her face.  
  
But she doesn’t. Instead, she just maintains the stare, ignoring Foxy as best as she can.  
  
They stay like that for a minute, not talking, not moving, just staring, and for a few seconds, everyone and everything around them just vanishes from her vision and hearing until there’s nothing left but Paige. It’s just the two of them now, too far to touch, but close enough to cover the distance in a second, and AJ isn’t sure what’s going to happen next: a fight? A kiss? A screaming match?  
  
Shit’s almost romantic.  
  
But nothing happens. Instead, the connection breaks, everything else returns in a rush of colour and sound, and Paige turns and leaves, Fox by her side as always. AJ turns back to her screen, ignoring all the people staring from her to Paige’s retreating back.  
  
Fuck ‘em. They’re all useless anyway.

 

  
That would have been the end of it. It should have been the end of it, but it’s not. Instead, it all comes to a head about half an hour after _Raw_ ’s over.

AJ wants to get back first, well before Paige and Fox. Instead, Hunter calls her into his office, and she spends half an hour reassuring him and Stephanie that she isn’t going to start any fights backstage, and that she’ll keep things nice and civil- after all, he tells her, as the Divas Champion, she’s supposed to be mature and responsible and so on. 

Ha. Ha. Ha. Like that ever applied to any of the Champions.

(It’s all she can do to not fake a coughing fit and say ‘LayCool’ under her breath.)

But getting along with the Authority means that one has to do a certain amount of bullshitting, even if it’s just to ensure that one is left alone, so she smiles, she fakes civility and she says everything she has to say to get out without any further discussion.

Once she’s dismissed, she leaves, looking around furtively as she finally gets out of the arena.  
  
To be honest, she’s not feeling very safe right now.  
  
It’s not like it’d actually count for anything, given that they don’t have a match any time soon, but she wouldn’t put it past either Paige or Fox to randomly attack her, just for the hell of it.  
  
She’s still better than them both put together, though, and she knows that they know it.

It’s not a long trip back to the apartment building, at least- about half an hour on foot at the most, and it’s late enough that there’s not much traffic.

It’s pretty cold outside, though, so when she steps through the doors and into the warmth of the foyer, she can’t hold back her happy sigh. Maybe choosing to not wear a coat was a bad idea, after all.

There’s a few people waiting for the elevator, but AJ never takes it anyway. She climbs the stairs two at a time, and even with her baby over her shoulder, she doesn’t get worn out.  
  
She’s at the fourth floor in no time, and she turns the corner, takes a few steps and freezes.  
  
There are seven apartments to a floor, and hers is the fifth. And someone’s leaning on her door.  
  
A tall, dark-haired someone wearing a leather jacket.  
  
It’s too late to retreat: Paige has seen her. She gives AJ a little wave and a mocking smile as she walks closer, and AJ takes a deep breath, trying to calm down.

It doesn’t work.  
  
“Took you long enough,” Paige says as she comes to a stop a few steps in front of AJ. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”  
  
“What the hell are you doing here?” AJ asks, and it hits her a second later that it wasn’t the wisest choice of words.

Well, it’s too late now.

“Just wanted a word,” Paige says innocently. Her eyes narrow, and she looks at AJ’s title, her stare intense. “You’ve got something that’s mine.”  
  
“Like fuck I do,” AJ says coldly. “I won it at Payback, I won it at _Raw_ , and I won it at Night of Champions. It’s _mine._ ”  
  
“Stop pretending, AJ,” Paige says, taking a step forward. Her voice is sickly sweet, and AJ has to stop herself from taking a step back. She can’t let Paige take control of the conversation. She can’t show Paige any weakness. She can’t let Paige win.

“Who’s pretending?” AJ asks dryly, trying for ‘indifferent’ and getting ‘worried’, much to her annoyance.

Paige takes another step forward, coming uncomfortably close, and AJ doesn’t like it. “You can protest all you want, but that title is mine and we both know it,” she drawls, her voice subtly mocking AJ.  
  
AJ’s rattled, but she refuses to show any weakness, not in front of _her_. Instead, she cups a hand to her ear. “Wait, what’s that I can hear? Oh, right- it’s denial. Because you know that’s bullshit, Paige. I’m a better champion than you, than Fox, than every single other champion combined. And you know it’s true.”  
  
Paige laughs mockingly, leans forward and pokes AJ’s nose roughly. AJ flinches, but she stands her ground and resists the urge to bite down and hang on.  
  
“You keep telling yourself that, pumpkin,” Paige drawls. “But we both know that I _will_ get my title back, sooner or later. Your days as champion are numbered, AJ. You’d better start counting down.”  
  
It takes all of AJ’s self-control to not hit her. Instead, she tilts her head and smiles. “Well, my sweet little crumpet,” and her voice is smooth and slick and saccharine, “maybe you should start counting down to your next crushing defeat. You’re going to have to work a lot harder to beat me for good.”  
  
She can tell that Paige isn’t affected, so she presses a little harder. “In fact, you’re actually gonna have to work. I know you prefer coasting on what little talent you’ve got-”  
  
Jackpot. Paige gets visibly angrier as AJ keeps talking, and once she’s finished, AJ smirks as smugly as she can.  
  
She’s still smirking when Paige slams her into the wall. “Shut your fucking _mouth_ , you bitch.”  
  
AJ smiles instead, ignoring the pain in her head and back in favour of her glee at winning this little contest. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”  
  
Paige slaps her, but AJ doesn’t stop smiling. It’s only a slap, after all. She’s taken harder blows and shrugged them off, it’s no big deal.  
  
So instead of striking back, she pulls one of her favourite moves: she lets the title drop to the floor and jumps into Paige’s arms.  
  
Paige reacts without thinking, wraps her arms around AJ to hold her in place, and then they’re locked together, bodies touching, face to face, and AJ suddenly becomes aware of the heat spreading through her.  
  
There’s a sudden, heavy silence that falls like an axe, and for a long, long moment, neither woman moves. Their faces are barely an inch apart, and all AJ can hear is the quiet sound of their breathing.  
  
When she thinks back to this moment later, she’s not sure who made the first move, but it doesn’t matter. They kiss, and it’s simultaneously sweet and bitter, the two tastes mingling and spreading through AJ’s mouth until they’ve become some confusing combination she can’t quite understand.  
  
There’s no love in the kiss, nor even any like. Just lust, and hate, and need, and disgust, and a dozen other things AJ doesn’t care about. Her world has narrowed down to Paige: Paige and her soft red lips, her warm brown eyes, her quick, teasing hands as she sets AJ down and pushes her against the wall, one hand sliding under AJ’s shirt while the other slides behind her head, holding her in the kiss.  
  
AJ’s eyes are closed, and she moans as Paige kisses her harder, her legs weakening. For someone she despises, Paige kisses like a dream, and it’s a dream AJ would happily stay in forever.  
  
Well, at least until Paige’s hand finds one of AJ’s nipples and pinches _hard_.  
  
AJ’s eyes fly open and she gasps in pain, but Paige doesn’t stop, the kiss going from heavenly to hellish in a second.  
  
Oh. So that’s her game.  
  
Well, two can play at that.

AJ’s eyes narrow. Her hands are still where they were when she jumped into Paige’s arms, resting just above Paige’s back, so she slides a hand down and rakes her nails across Paige’s back, laughing a little at the pained cry she elicits.  
  
Paige groans, and she shoves AJ against the wall even harder, and one hand fists in AJ’s hair, sending agony exploding across her scalp, and AJ-

 

  
- _remembers._  
  
_She’s kneeling on the floor in Daniel’s apartment, and her knees are aching, both from how long she’s been kneeling there and from the carpet burn. Daniel’s sitting on his bed, naked from the waist down, fists clenched, eyes closed, and she’s blowing him, her hands braced on his thighs._  
  
_She’s never done this before, and he knows that, but judging from everything he’s mumbling, she hasn’t fucked it up yet. She’s tuned him out, because she’s doing her best to not throw up, and she can only focus on blowing him and not throwing up, not on listening to him as well. She’s good- at least, she thinks she’s doing OK- but she’s not that good. The urge isn’t that strong, but she’s afraid of what’ll happen if he comes and she throws up on him- or, worse, if she throws up on him before he comes._

_She’s already seen what happens when she pisses him off, and she doesn’t want to see it again._

_She loves him, after all. Isn’t that part of what love is, to not want to make your loved ones angry?_

_She licks the head of his cock again, hears him moan, and if she could, she’d be smiling. At least she-_  
  
_She hasn’t realised it, but she’s had less of his cock in her mouth than she thought, probably in the hope of not triggering her gag reflex in full._

_He’s realised it, though. One of his hands strokes her hair, and she flinches away from his touch, hates herself for doing it, but it’s done, and she knows he noticed._

_He doesn’t verbally react, though. Instead, his hand becomes a fist, gripping her hair so hard it feels like he’s ripping it out, and AJ cries out in pain._  
  
_She doesn’t see him smirk._

 _Instead, his other hand pushes her head_ down _, not loosening its grip on her hair, and the head of his cock hits the back of her throat and she nearly throws up, her stomach rolling._  
  
_“Good girl,” he murmurs over and over, and_ finally _, the hand gripping her hair lets go. He strokes the back of her neck soothingly, but it does nothing to help, because she can’t_ breathe _and she’s panicking, but his other hand is holding her head down and all she can do is keep sucking, keep licking, keep blowing in the hope that when he comes, he’ll let her breathe._  
  
_It seems to take forever. She’s getting desperate, getting even more terrified, and he_ has _to know that she can’t breathe, but he just keeps stroking her neck and murmuring encouragement, until finally,_ finally, _he lets out a groan and comes, his hands falling back to his sides._  
  
_AJ falls back and nearly falls on her ass, trying to swallow the thick, salty come and breathe at the same time. It takes her a few seconds, but she manages to swallow it all. He’ll know if she doesn’t, and he won’t like it at all, but she does it because she loves him, and that’s the truth._

 _She inhales lungful after delicious lungful of air, and her chest_ hurts _like someone stabbed her, but thank God, she’s alive, and tears fill her eyes._  
  
_She wipes them away, afraid that Daniel will see, and his voice on her ears shocks her back to Earth._  
  
_“AJ,” he calls quietly, and she looks up, a little frightened._

 _He’s pulled his pants back on, and he’s reclining on the bed, looking down at her with a fond smile. He pats the bed next to him, says “Come here,” and his voice is even friendly._  
  
_She climbs awkwardly onto the bed, flops down next to him, and looks over at him, both terrified and excited._

_She loves him, after all. She does, she really does. She says it to herself over and over, and that’s how she knows it’s true._

_He pulls her close to him, and she cuddles him, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist, and for a second, she thinks that maybe, maybe, things might just be OK, and AJ-_

 

  
-comes back to herself, and she realises dimly that she’s on the floor, slumped against the wall, dead to the world as she remembered.  
  
Paige is shaking her shoulders, calling her name over and over, and AJ blinks, gasps, looks around, and recognises the look on Paige’s face: fear.  
  
For one moment, she wonders why Paige would be afraid, and then the memory sinks in.

_“AJ? Can you hear me?”_

She wants to throw up.

_“AJ? AJ, are you OK?”_

She can hear Daniel’s voice screaming at her, feel his hand holding her head down, and her scalp aches and her knees hurt and-

_“AJ, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”_

AJ shoves Paige away, scrambles to her feet and runs.  
  
She can hear Paige calling after her, but she’s not important. What _is_ important is getting to safety, getting away from the memories before they come back for her.  
  
Her eyes are full of tears, and she blinks them away as she runs, though they return in seconds.  
  
It’s not long until she reaches her door, and she drops her keys a few times before she can hold them steady, trying to remember which one opens her door, looking back at Paige as she fumbles with the key-ring, praying the other woman won’t come after her.  
  
She doesn’t, thank God, and the door opens, and AJ bolts inside, slams the door, lets the keys fall and collapses, hitting the ground hard.  
  
That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that she can cry now, and she does. She curls into a tight ball, sobbing into the carpet, feeling his hands touching her all over until she can barely hold back a scream.  
  
Instead of screaming, she pulls her shirt and bra off, throws them aside, and starts scratching, raking her nails over every inch she can reach until the phantom touch is replaced by sweet, sweet pain.  
  
After what seems like an age, she sits up, still crying, still sickened, and mops her face dry with her shirt, blinking away the tears until she can finally see.

Even then, she needs a few deep breaths before she can really focus, and she needs to hang onto the wall to stay upright as she walks to the bathroom.  
  
Once she’s there, she steels herself, walks over to the toilet and recalls the memory, deliberately going over the details again and again until she finally throws up, and it feels wrong, but at the same time, it’s like a weight falls from her shoulders.

She flushes away the mess, wipes her mouth, strips off her remaining clothes and steps into the shower, turning it on to hot, laughing as the heat makes her scratched skin scream.  
  
The water washes away her tears, her anguish, her sorrow and her pain, and after a while, it’s like there’s nothing left of her.  
  
And she’s just fine with that.  
  
AJ emerges from her apartment an hour later, dry and dressed and smiling, and you wouldn’t be able to tell that there was ever anything wrong at all.

 


	2. love me like you said you would

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflection always was a double-edged sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. It's been a really, really chaotic time for me, but I'm hoping that this chapter will make up for it. :)

AJ likes high places. She’s always liked being able to see everything, having the best views of what’s going on.  
  
And yeah, OK, it also makes her feel a bit like she’s Spiderman.  
  
The apartment building’s roof was turned into a garden shortly after everyone started moving in. Initially, only half of it was actually used, but there’s more than a few people who like to garden, so the leftover space was divided into parts and anyone who wants can grab an unclaimed patch and do whatever they want with it, whether it's growing rosebushes for fun, or carnivorous plants to kill their enemies.

(For obvious reasons, that last one's a chapter in the building's past that most people aren't inclined to recall, though everyone's grateful that a certain big red monster finally ripped the damn plants out and burned them when the whole thing got too extreme.)

And, OK, it’s also a convenient place for everyone currently getting shafted by the Powers That Be to sit around, get drunk and bitch about how life is doing them down.  
  
AJ knows that she can’t really complain, given that she and Stephanie have this weird love/hate/I-respect-you-but-I-think-you’re-a-complete-bitch thing going on that makes Stephanie favour her, but it’s hard to deny that the Authority are evil when it comes to deciding who gets to have matches.  
  
Still, it’s not like she can do anything about it.  
  
And to be honest, she doesn’t really want to. The only person in the division who can even come close to her (not the name she’s not gonna think that _name_ ) already gets plenty of matches. There’s no one else AJ would be even remotely inclined to stick her neck out for.  
  
Well, if AJ was in the habit of sticking her neck out for people, which she’s not.  
  
So she slides the thought out of her mind and sits down on one of the wooden benches near the railing at the edge of the roof.  
  
She can see the world from up here. The wind is cold and fast, tearing at her skin and her hair, so she huddles against the seat, her arms around her knees and her hood up.  
  
She can’t remember where she got this hoodie. It’s far too big for her- she’s practically drowning in its folds- so it must have belonged to one of her exes, but it’s just an unmarked black hoodie, with no way to tell who it might have belonged to.  
  
Still, it doesn’t matter where she got it from. It’s soft and warm and as she stares out over the horizon, she muses idly that there’s no better place to be.  
  
Well, until she nearly falls off the bench as the first ear-splitting shriek hits her ears.  
  
Luckily, she grabs the railing as she topples forward, and manages to right herself easily. Once she’s safely back on the bench, she carefully peers around it, trying not to draw attention to herself. It’s something of an unwritten rule in the building that unless you either know or firmly believe that someone’s in actual danger, you don’t get involved, especially if you don’t know the people in the fight or the context. Given that everyone living there knows how to throw a punch (well, in theory, at least), the less potential for broken bones, the better.

In this case, it’s… oh. Layla and Summer Rae. How _unexpected._  
  
Mainly because while they both finally realised that Fandango’s a douchebag and dumped him, their pretence that their past history is water under the bridge is just impossible to believe, though they seem to have taken in the commentators.  
  
Then again, the commentators are all sleazy idiots who make AJ’s skin crawl.  
  
AJ’s been admittedly quite warm toward the SLayers, given the extensive _Buffy_ references, but it's not like it matters, really. She’s considered them as potential allies, but she’s shelved it for now. She’d have to be blind to not notice how much sexual tension there is between them, and that always makes things much more complicated than they should be.  
  
(She’s often wondered if they only fight because hate makes the sex sweeter, but that’s a question for another time.)  
  
Right now Summer’s in full voice, screaming about their latest loss while Layla does her best to rebut in between shrieks. AJ cringes, her hands over her ears, and she wishes that Summer’s voice wasn’t capable of splitting rocks in half- and that she wouldn’t use it so damn often.  
  
But she does, and she is, and so all AJ can do is wince and sing loudly in her head while focusing on the view.  
  
She’s so focused, in fact, that it takes her a few seconds to realise that Summer’s finally stopped screaming.  
  
She turns around cautiously, and sees that instead, they’re kissing passionately, pressed up against each other so hard that it looks like they're trying to wear the same clothes. As she watches, Layla starts kissing down Summer's neck, and Summer's hand slips into Layla's shirt.

  
Huh.  
  
Well.  
  
Good for them.  
  
After a few seconds, Layla takes Summer’s hand and leads her toward the stairs, and AJ turns back around, no longer interested. Instead, she watches, intrigued, as far below a car turns a corner and another car nearly fails to stop, skidding to a halt just in time.  
  
She imagines the angry shouts and honking horns, and casually looks around, her gaze falling on someone on a motorbike a few streets away. They're expertly weaving around cars, slipping between lanes, and end up nearly getting hit as they decide that the road rules aren’t for them and run a red light.  
  
Idiot.  
  
It’s truly fascinating: the world turns, a billion cogs in a huge machine, and AJ watches, hypnotised by how everything fits together, how one part of the machine turns and thousands are affected.

She’s watching people crossing at a huge intersection when a voice says from somewhere behind her, “They’re gone, right?”

AJ jumps and nearly falls off the bench, but she catches herself just in time, gripping the worn wooden seat so hard her knuckles turn white.  
  
“Yeah, they’re gone,” a second voice says, and AJ twitches, because she knows those voices: Paige and Alicia.  
  
Well, fuck.  
  
“Thought they’d never stop,” Foxy says, and AJ reluctantly agrees, though she doesn’t turn around. No point in having another fight.  
  
Well, that and she never wants to see Paige again. Just the thought is making her want to run.  
  
_That’s not her fault,_ AJ tells herself. _She didn’t do anything wrong. That time. It wasn’t her fault, just a bad coincidence._  
  
She forces herself to take a deep breath in and let it out, and as a result she misses the first bit of Foxy’s sentence.  
  
“-really gonna keep psyching AJ out? She’s crazy, Paige.”  
  
AJ tilts her head to the side, purses her lips, and-  
  
  
  
_-imagines the baseball bat in her hand, so light, so easy to wield, yet capable of doing so much delicious destruction, creating so much chaos in just a few seconds._

_She’s standing behind the door, listening to the distant footsteps getting louder, and just as she thinks that she’ll never turn up, the door opens and Foxy walks through it._

_AJ grips the bat so hard that pain shoots through her hands and swings._

_The bat impacts with a sick_ thud _, and Foxy’s eyes roll up in her head as she goes down like a sack of sand, sprawling over the floor, still breathing._

_AJ looks down at her, considers her options, and makes her decision._

_She drops to one knee, lifts the bat above her head and brings it down with all her strength, and as she does, she feels like she’s flying, a rush of exhilaration that makes her laugh as the bat impacts._

_Foxy twitches once, and then that’s it. AJ stares down at the blood seeping onto the floor, at the splinters littering the tiles where the bat broke, and she-_

  
  
-frowns ever so slightly.  
  
“I’m not psyching her out!” Paige protests, and AJ doesn’t believe a single damn word of it.  
  
“Bullshit,” Foxy says, laughing. “What do you call that stare-off, then?”  
  
“OK, maybe I’m psyching her out a little,” Paige concedes. “But what happened in the hallway was nothing like that. Except for the argument.”  
  
AJ flinches back against the seat, her arms instinctively covering her face, expecting a blow.  
  
_You… you fucking_ told _her?_  
  
“It sounds really fucked up,” Foxy says, without a trace of sympathy for anyone in her voice. “She’s so weird.”  
  
_Coming from_ you?  
  
“Yeah, well, so are we,” Paige says jokingly, and Foxy laughs.  
  
_No shit, Sherlock._  
  
“Come on, we’re not as bad as AJ. I mean, it’s not like either of us have dated more people than Dean Malenko has holds.”  
  
AJ’s blood turns to ice, and it’s all she can do to stop herself from jumping over the bench and ripping Alicia’s fucking face off. 

 _Shut your mouth, you shut your fucking_ mouth _-_  
  
“Oh, that’s not fair,” Paige says, and the one part of AJ that isn’t contemplating brutally murdering Alicia is confused, because Paige sounds like she means it and AJ has no idea why Paige would defend her. “Lots of people have lots of exes.”  
  
“Yeah, but who the hell dates Daniel Bryan, that creep-”  
  
And AJ-  
  
  
- _remembers the look on his face as he says ‘I wish you were never even_ born _’, and all she can do is blink, and stare, because he didn’t say that, he didn’t just say that, he doesn’t mean it, he_ can’t _mean it, but he does and it’s all she can do to not burst into tears, and he_ smiles _and her heart shatters, and now he’s_ laughing _, and all she can do is stand there, trying not to cry, the crowd’s roars in her ears, and he opens his mouth to speak, and she-_  
  
  
  
-bites down on her lip so hard she tastes blood, and she wants to throw herself over the bench and punch Alicia’s fucking face in, but she doesn’t. Instead, she listens as Alicia continues, barely remembering to breathe. 

“And Punk? Come on, what the hell did she expect?”

AJ knows what she expected. It was-  
  
  
  
- _something other than that look on his face as he talked, the one that made it so obviously clear how little he thought of her, how worthless he’d deemed her, how much he wanted to be anywhere but there… and then it only got worse, because she’s crying into his chest and he thinks she’s faking, she knows he does, but she’s crying_ because _he doesn’t care. She hears him say “I sorta dig crazy chicks”, and God, his tone, that patronising tone, that fucking_ word _, it makes her want to slap the smug off his face, but all she can do is smile and hold back her tears and hope he’s sincere when she knows he’s not…_

_...and then she’s standing in the ring as Punk talks, and he’s still smug, still patronising, and he’s exaggerating, she left him like ten messages over a couple of weeks, for fuck’s sake-_

_And now he’s… what… oh. Oh,_ no.

 _“Why don’t you let everybody know_ exactly _how intimate me and you got behind closed doors,” he says, and she feels the same thing again, the same sensation like a knife she can’t see is stabbing her over and over again. He’s doing it to hurt her, she knows it, he knows it, and it’s working, but she wants to_ kill _him, because how dare he? How_ dare _he?_

 _“Let ‘em know, I’m the reason there’s this little_ skip _in your step,” he says smugly, and she’s this close to strangling him, but she doesn’t, she doesn’t, but fuck, she wishes she would. She wants him to shut up, she wants him to be the guy she fell for, she just wants-_  
  
  
  
-to be treated like a fucking human being instead of a toy for Punk to play with and throw aside, but apparently that was beyond him.  
  
“Kane? Who falls for _Kane?”_ Alicia says incredulously.  
  
AJ did.  
  
OK, yeah, maybe it was just for the hell of it at first- and yeah, kissing him was a stupid idea, but what the fuck else was she meant to do when she ended up in the ring with him?- but… he cared. He actually cared. And it was kind of hard not to fall for him, because God knows nobody else actually gave a fuck about her without expecting something in return.  
  
For all that everyone gives her shit for being with so many guys in such a short time span, AJ is always genuinely in love. Always.  
  
She-  
  
  
  
- _remembers lying on the ground after Vickie slammed her into the apron, her back screaming in agony and her legs unable to hold her up._

 _Out of nowhere, the light turns red and she hears his theme and she nearly collapses, terrified, because she has no idea who he’s there for, and all she can do is try to get out of the way and pray that he doesn’t notice her- or, if he does, that he doesn’t hurt her_ too _badly, even though she knows that her luck’s run out when it comes to Kane leaving her alone- and when has he ever_ not _hurt someone badly?_

_She tries to get to her knees, nearly falling as she struggles to keep her hair out of her eyes, and she doesn’t know what’s going on until he stops in front of her. She nearly sobs, terrified, but she looks up and even in the red light, even with his mask on, she can see his coal-black eyes, and they look so… kind._

_She looks away, unable to stand his intense stare, and then suddenly his hands are on her, and before she knows what’s happening, he’s cradling her as he walks back up the ramp. She slumps into his hold, relaxing in his grip, and he feels so warm and safe and she closes her eyes, almost happy, and then she-_

_  
_

-shakes herself. Nope. Not thinking about that. Certainly not. Instead, she-

_-weathers the heat of the boiler room, and she’s staring at him, stunned, as he talks._

_“I’m a monster. I wear a mask. My only source of pleasure is eviscerating people. And even_ I _find you to be mentally unstable.”_

 _It’s the surprise in his voice that really makes it hit home, and it hits her like a hammer to her spine. She knows what people will say now: when_ Kane _thinks you’re unstable…_

 _…and they’re all going to call her_ crazy _, and she fucking hates it, hates that fucking_ word _, it rips away everything about her and makes her feel like_ nothing _, and she wants to scream and cry and tear someone apart and all she can do is laugh, so she-_  
  
  
  
-shakes her head briskly and blinks hard. Yep, that was a thing, but she’s not going to think about it.  
  
“And Cena? That was just a clusterfuck from the beginning-”  
  
AJ can’t disagree with that.

But John was… well, it was hard to not believe his schtick, really. For all that he’s really just a huge jerk, he always seemed so moral, so upstanding, so _nice_ \- well, that or he's damn good at pretending- that she just wanted to see if he’d be better than the others. And when Vickie stuck her oar in, it seemed almost like it was meant to happen.  
  
But then she thinks of-  
  
  
  
- _his awkward speech, his darting glances, all the little signs that he just did not want to be there, didn’t want her around him, didn’t know how to react to her, and she just knew he was always wondering why the hell he’d even looked at her twice, but whenever she took her clothes off he’d suddenly remember why, always staring at her tits, never at her face, and she’d guessed that it was better than nothing, but it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it was just another way she’d fucked up yet again, another thing to regret, another thing to cry over, and in the end she knew he never cared, and she wasn’t even surprised, given-_  
  
  
  
-how the signs were always there, and she should have read them, but she didn’t. Instead… yeah. Best not to go into that.  
  
“And then she jumps right over to Ziggler!” Alicia says incredulously.  
  
She doesn’t _get it._ She never will. Because yeah, Dolph wasn’t exactly kind to her when she was dating Cena ( _fucking,_ some part of her mind whispers, _it was only fucking, it would have been dating if he’d ever given a damn about you_ ), but he told her the truth, and in the end that was what did it. He told her the truth to her face, and he didn’t dress it up. And he didn’t use that _word_ , the word that makes her want to rip and rend, the word that stabs her soul and makes her remember every time one of her many exes humiliated and destroyed her for their enjoyment.  
  
So it wasn’t hard.  
  
In fact-  
  
  
  
- _she’s almost laughing as she skips around John. He’s setting up the ladder, he’s climbing, and AJ runs to the ladder and pushes it as hard as she can, and she wants to scream with bliss as he falls, because she’s never,_ never _felt this good._

_Ziggler kicks him as he falls, and they’re staring at each other, him in utter disbelief and her trying to hold back emotions so mixed that she doesn’t know if she wants to scream or cry or laugh._

_Instead, she turns and skips away…_

_…and now it’s Christmas, and she’s snuggled into her side, watching TLC over again, and he’s so_ nice _, so goddamn_ nice _, she has no idea how anyone could be this nice to her (or fake it that well), and she just wants to hold on to him and never let go…_

_…and they’re walking backstage after Money In The Bank, and she’s terrified, praying over and over that he’s not angry, because she only wanted to help, she knows she fucked up, but she wanted to help, and that’s not a bad thing, is it?_

_But it is._

_“It’s time for_ me _to move on from_ you _,” he says, his voice deadly quiet, and he turns and walks away, never looking back, and AJ’s heart shatters yet again, and-_  
  
  
  
-she decides that she’s had enough of this.  
  
“She’s fucking insane,” Alicia says, almost in disbelief. “Come on, Paige, tell me you don’t _know_ she’s insane. I mean, that’s not even getting into-”  
  
AJ gets up.  
  
She knows that they’ve both spotted her. She hears Paige gasp, and Foxy abruptly stops talking. She walks around the bench and up to them without speaking a word, and she stops when she’s close to them and just stares, first at Foxy, then at Paige, letting her hatred and rage burn holes through them.  
  
She doesn’t say a single thing, and she doesn’t need to.  
  
Instead, she turns around and walks away, back down the stairs and to her own apartment, breathing deeply, her fists clenched.  
  
And she refuses to let herself cry.


	3. ain't nobody gonna get me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's got friends and enemies. The lucky ones can tell which ones are which.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I went on holiday and wrote a shitload of fic, so I am happy to say that the last chapter of amor vale and the next story in the machine turns are done. Of course, they need a shitload of editing, but I'll get to that eventually. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and feel free to leave questions or comments at my tumblr (http://indra-cal.tumblr.com).

AJ spends the next week going out of her way to avoid Paige. She talks to Stephanie, calls in a favour, and Stephanie makes sure that AJ and Paige aren’t going to be having any matches for the next two weeks, at the very least.

AJ’s not sure if she can afford to have spent that favour, but it’s not like it’ll be hard to earn a new one, and she’s kinda used to it by now.

But that’s beside the point.

She holes herself up in her apartment, playing video games until her hands hurt and her head aches, and she only leaves when she has to.

After six days of successfully avoiding Paige, she makes the mistake of letting herself relax, starting to believe that maybe things might be OK.

That night, she dreams.

 

  
  
_She’s standing in a huge, circular room. The walls are a dark colour that she can't make out, but they flicker every couple of seconds, changing to another dark colour, the difference just barely perceptible._

_There's something in the middle of the room, a tiny object, but no matter how hard she looks at it, she can't quite see what it is._

_Cautiously, she turns around, but behind her, there’s only smooth walls, and no sign of anything remotely resembling an exit._  
  
_So she takes a tentative step forward, and then another, and then another, and then she leans down to pick up the strange object-_

_-and before she can move, something wraps around her wrist, like a rope made of black metal. More ropes wrap around her legs, her feet, her body, until she’s so trussed up she can’t move, suspended from the ceiling, and she’s just thinking that things can’t get any worse when there’s a faint noise, and the ropes change into wire, wire with-_

_Oh God. Oh,_ God.  
  
_It’s razor wire, and she can’t feel any pain, but she freezes, unwilling to so much as move._

_But she has to breathe, but she can’t, that’s moving, but she can’t just stay still, but she has to, but she-_

_-opens her mouth and takes a deep breath, and the wire sinks into every bit of her it touches, cutting deeper and deeper as agony explodes through her body, and AJ screams and screams and screams-_

 

 _-_ and she wakes up to the roll of thunder, so loud that it snaps her out of the dream. She's thrashing and screaming, the sheets tangled around her so badly that they’re like ropes, and eventually AJ breaks free, sits up and starts crying, hugging herself tightly as the thunder sounds again.  
  
Wait. That’s not thunder.

Someone’s at her door.

“AJ? AJ, are you OK?"

Wait, is that…?  
  
“AJ, come on, just open the door.”  
  
Naomi?  
  
Huh.  
  
Well.  
  
That’s… not what she was expecting.  
  
There’s another knock, and Naomi calls her name again.

Though AJ isn’t sure what- or who- she was expecting.

Slowly, AJ climbs out of bed, pushes her hair out of her face, and gradually makes her way to the front door, her legs rubbery and sore.  
  
She opens it, and freezes.  
  
Naomi’s presence at least makes sense- she lives across the hall. But it’s not just Naomi outside the door. Some of the other doors have opened, and AJ can see Brie, and Nikki, and Summer, and there’s a few Divas who don’t even live on the floor, like Layla (oh, what a surprise), and Eva Marie…

And Paige.  
  
They lock eyes for a second, and AJ instinctively tries to slam the door shut, but Naomi catches it and holds it open. “Wait!”  
  
AJ looks down, takes a breath and tries to stay focused. “Sorry I woke you up.”  
  
Naomi sounds concerned, but AJ doesn’t dare to look up, not with Paige there. “Are you OK? What happened?”  
  
“It’s nothing,” AJ mutters. “I had a nightmare. That’s all.”  
  
“That's all?” Naomi asks sceptically, and AJ shrinks away from her, feeling hunted.  
  
She manages to nod. “Yeah. I'm sorry. It’s nothing.”  
  
She steps back from the door and pushes it shut, and yeah, maybe it’s kind of bitchy, but fuck it, it’s got to be three AM, she just had a nightmare and it’s not like she actually likes any of them.  
  
And there’s Paige, as well.  
  
She’s staring into the depths of her fridge when another knock sounds, and she rolls her eyes. If it’s a Bella or Summer or somebody trying to school her on her lack of manners…  
  
But it’s not. When she opens the door, she nearly does slam it, but Paige catches it at the last moment and forces it back open.  
  
They stare at each other for a moment, both dishevelled and unkempt, and AJ belatedly realises that Paige looks oddly… distraught.  
  
“Leave me alone,” she snarls. “Just fucking leave me alone!”  
  
“AJ, wait,” Paige pleads. “I just need to talk to you. I’m sorry about what happened-”  
  
“Oh, you’re sorry? You’re fucking _sorry?_ ” AJ nearly screams, and she knows everyone can still hear her, but fuck that.  
  
She knows it’s irrational. It wasn’t Paige’s fault, and it’s not like she did anything wrong. But AJ needs someone to scream at, and it looks like it’s Paige.  
  
Paige looks quickly around the hallway, and before AJ has time to realise what’s happening, they’re both inside, and Paige is leaning on the closed door.  
  
“Are you sure you’re OK?” Paige asks, and AJ rolls her eyes.  
  
“I’m fine. Say whatever you have to say and get the fuck out of my apartment,” she snaps.  
  
Paige hesitates, and AJ folds her arms and glares. “Come on!”  
  
“I…” Paige starts, and then shakes her head. “No. Forget it. Sorry for disturbing you.”  
  
AJ didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “ _What?”_  
  
“I just thought we could talk, since we’ve barely seen each other since Saturday,” Paige says quietly. “It was a stupid idea. I’ll go.”  
  
Before AJ can do anything, she turns around and walks out, and the door clicks shut behind her.  
  
AJ’s left to stare at the space where Paige was, confused, and she has no idea what to think.

 

  
The next day, AJ picks up the phone and calls the one person she can still call a friend.  
  
The phone rings once, twice, three times before Kaitlyn picks up. “Hello?”  
  
AJ takes a deep breath, lets it out, and speaks. “Kaitlyn? It’s AJ.”  
  
Kaitlyn goes from curious to warm and friendly in seconds. “AJ, hey!”  
  
AJ smiles weakly, her heart hurting, and she-  
  
- _remembers the last match, remembers staring into Kaitlyn’s eyes, remembers jumping into her arms and hugging her, trying not to cry, because for all their rivalry, all their insults, all the hatred, all she could see was her best friend and it’s the last time they’ll be in the ring together, the last time they’ll really be together, and AJ…_

_…remembers clutching the title, crying onto its polished surface, curled up in her battered old armchair while she tries to dial the number. She keeps hitting the wrong buttons and tries to start again, but the tears are making it an impossible task, and every time she wipes them away, they return in seconds. She doesn’t have the number saved in her phone; she wishes she hadn’t deleted it. She knows it off by heart, thankfully; it’s not a number she’d like to ask anyone else for._

_She hits the last number, finally, and blinks away the tears enough to get a good look at the screen. Three, five, eight… no, shit, that’s wrong. Damn it. She hits clear and starts again._

_It takes her maybe five more times before the number’s finally done, and she sits still, her thumb above the call button._

_It’s stupid. It’s taken her this long to get the number in correctly, and now she can’t work up the courage to actually do it._

_She closes her eyes, takes a breath, and hits the button…_

_…but she can’t hear the ringing. Instead, she opens her eyes, confused, and sees that she hit the wrong button, adding a one to the end._

_She laughs, a little dismayed, feeling stupid, but at least it’s not too much trouble to fix it._

_After that, all the tension’s gone, and she only feels a token quiver in her stomach when she hits the call button._

_The phone rings once, twice, three times, and for a second AJ thinks there won’t be an answer, but finally, she picks up._  
  
_“Hello?” Kaitlyn says, her voice bleary and slurred, and AJ gasps a little. “Who is this?”_

_“Kaitlyn?” AJ asks, her voice wavering._

_“AJ? Is that you?"  
_

_“It’s me,” AJ whispers.  
  
“What the hell?” Kaitlyn asks, her voice slurred. “It’s… it’s 3 AM!”_

_“I’m sorry,” AJ whispers, and that’s it, that’s really it, and it’s all she can do to not collapse into a sobbing wreck then and there._

_“You… what?”_

_“I’m sorry,” AJ repeats. “For everything.”_  
  
_There’s no response, and AJ stares blankly at the phone._

_“AJ… are you drunk?” Kaitlyn asks, and AJ looks away, despairing, because no, she’s not and she hates that Kaitlyn thinks she has to be drunk to apologise._

_“No,” she says finally. “I’m just… I’m so sorry.”_  
  
_“AJ… look, I’ll call you back, OK? It’s 3 AM, I can’t do this conversation at 3 AM.”_  
  
_AJ stammers out an OK, because she can’t think of any other way to respond, and the phone goes dead._

_She remains sitting there, staring at it for several minutes._

_Of all the responses she expected, that wasn’t one of them. In fact, she-_

 

  
-snaps back as Kaitlyn says her name again. “AJ? AJ, are you still there?”  
  
AJ shakes her head briskly, blinks and nods. “I’m here. Sorry.”  
  
“How are you?” Kaitlyn asks. 

“I’m… uh… it’s a long story. How… how are you?”  
  
“I’m good. So… what’s wrong?”  
  
AJ clears her throat. “I need your advice.”  
  
“Sure, what’s the problem?” Kaitlyn asks, and AJ lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.  
  
It’s why she loves Kaitlyn so much.  
  
They made up the night after AJ called her. The conversation was long and complicated and constantly devolved into tears and apologies again and again. And by the end of it, they were friends again, though it was tentative, to say the least.

But time has repaired the damage, and Kaitlyn is once again AJ’s best friend.

And she isn’t going to fuck it up again.

So AJ stammers out the story, and it takes a while to cover it all, but she gets there in the end.  
  
“Oh boy,” Kaitlyn says when AJ reaches the end. “You really don’t do things by halves, do you?”  
  
AJ looks away from the phone, forgetting that Kaitlyn can’t see her, her cheeks flushed with shame.  
  
“Um,” she says, unable to think of anything else to say.  
  
“Sorry,” Kaitlyn says. “But seriously, this is so you.”  
  
AJ’s shoulders slump. “And that’s a bad thing.”  
  
“No, no. You just have this… habit. Of getting into scrapes that nobody else would.”  
  
“So… what should I do?” AJ asks helplessly.  
  
“Well… honestly, it just sounds like a big misunderstanding.”  
  
“A _misunderstanding?_ ”  
  
“Look, she meant to take your title, she meant to fuck with your head, but she couldn’t have known what grabbing your hair like that would do, right?”  
  
AJ lets out a breath and bites her lip. “Right.”  
  
“And from what you said, it was Foxy doing all the bitching, right?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“So you can’t blame Paige for it. I mean, Foxy’s a bitch, she always has been, but it’s not Paige’s fault that her friend’s a bitch.”  
  
“I guess,” AJ says reluctantly.  
  
“I mean, yeah, she needs better taste in friends, but that’s not the point. If she wants to apologise, I think you should let her. I mean, none of this was really her fault. You don’t have to like her, but maybe you two can just fight over the title like normal people.”  
  
AJ barks out a laugh. “Normal people? We would have fucked in the corridor if she hadn’t… done the thing.”  
  
“Oh, come on,” Kaitlyn says. “That happens all the time. Remember that time we had to step over Fandango and Summer on the way back to my apartment?" 

AJ giggles despite herself, because she does remember and it’s still just as hilarious as it was back then.

“You should at least give her a chance to apologise,” Kaitlyn urges her. “OK?”

AJ nods slowly, and then remembers that Kaitlyn can’t see her. “I… I guess.”

“There you go,” Kaitlyn says warmly.

They switch topics, talking about Kaitlyn’s new life, and AJ slowly allows herself to relax, hoping that maybe, just maybe, things won’t go so terribly.

Yeah, maybe it's a stupid wish, but Christ, it's not like it's against the law to want your life to go well for once.

So that night, before she goes to bed, she phones Paige, knowing that Paige and Foxy have gone out with a group of the other Divas, and leaves a short, terse message: _If you want to talk, I’ll be at the garden at noon tomorrow._

And she dreams.

 

  
  
_She’s always loved the_ Harry Potter _books, loved reading and rereading them and visualising the world contained within. She remembers certain scenes, certain people, certain places vividly enough that they’re ingrained into her memory._

 _So when she walks through the plain door and into the room, her first thought is that it’s the bastard child of the Prefects’ Bathroom from_ Goblet of Fire _, a Roman bath and a swimming pool._  
  
_To put it bluntly, the room is_ huge _, and the pool is bigger than any swimming pool she’s ever seen. It’s deeper than two pools on top of each other, and the walls are lined with beautiful tiles in intricate patterns, though the patterns seem to be different every time she looks at them._  
  
_AJ walks toward the pool’s edge, moving slowly and carefully. There’s a high rail around the pool, but she still feels like she’s a second away from falling in._  
  
_When she leans over the railing, the bottom of the pool is so far away that it’s almost like she can’t see it._  
  
_Her eyes fall on the long row of taps on the edge of the pool and the long line of chairs behind them, and she thinks to herself,_ Well, why not?  
  
_Carefully, she walks around the pool’s edge to the first tap, and turns it. Water spurts out, and the pool starts to fill faster than any pool should, especially when it’s that big and there’s only one tap._  
  
_Experimentally, AJ turns another tap, and the first tap stops. Thick, creamy soap of some kind flows out of the new tap, and as soon as it hits the water, it forms a layer of bubbles thicker than AJ’s head._  
  
_AJ laughs, delighted, and turns the next tap._  
  
_In seconds, huge rainbow bubbles are floating toward the ceiling, and AJ feels like a kid in a candy store. She pops a few, lets more form, and then turns the next tap._  
  
_The next tap doesn’t make any bubbles. Instead, the water instantly starts smelling sweet, some kind of floral scent, and AJ shrugs. Not bad._  
  
_The steam’s starting to get to her, her hair hanging in sweaty clumps and her clothes sticking to her skin, and she turns the first tap again, letting the pool fill._  
  
_Then she stands and starts pulling her clothes off, letting them fall to the side in an unceremonious heap._  
  
_Once she’s naked, she sits by the edge of the pool and tentatively leans out, sticking her foot into the bubbles._  
  
_Except the bubbles refuse to yield. They feel like a rubber mat- soft, but solid, and AJ’s eyes widen in surprise._  
  
_Carefully, cautiously, she stands and takes a step, and the bubbles hold her weight._

_She takes another step, then another, and by the fifth step, she’s laughing in delight at the realisation._

_So she runs over the bubbles, laughing as she doesn’t fall in, jumping up to pop a rainbow bubble, giggling as drops splash over her._  
  
_“You’re having fun,” a voice remarks, and AJ turns, surprised, and trips, falling on her front._

_Except the bubbles suddenly decide to stop being solid, and she gets a mouthful of foam that tastes like vanilla seconds before she hits the water._

_It’s hot, just a little too hot to be bearable, and surprisingly clear. In the seconds before her eyes start stinging, AJ sees that the pool’s bigger than she could imagine._

_And she’s sinking in the very middle of it._

_She desperately kicks to the surface, her chest aching, but instead of breaking through, her head bashes against a layer of bubbles that feel as solid as concrete, sending pain exploding through her head._

_She sinks like a stone, barely able to move, and she can’t breathe, trying not to panic even though she’s terrified. The heat’s almost too much to bear, and AJ thinks she’s about to die when a pair of hands grab her wrists and pull_ hard _._  
  
_The bubbles part for her, but they’re still solid when her rescuer lets go of her wrists, and AJ lies like a landed fish on the bubbles, coughing and spluttering, her chest aching as she breathes._

 _She lies there for a few seconds, feeling as though she’s boiling alive, when her rescuer picks her up like a nearly-drowned puppy and carries her off the bubbles, back onto the solid concrete._  
  
_She’s set down gently on a chair, her rescuer pushes her hair away from her face, and AJ blinks slowly, dimly aware that her vision is coming back into focus._

 _In the end, she’s not surprised when she realises that it’s Paige._  
  
_“Hey,” Paige says softly, taking one of AJ’s hands, and AJ takes another breath, relishing the cool air._

_She slowly nods back, and Paige squeezes her hand. “Are you OK?”_

_AJ can’t talk, but she manages to shake her head, and Paige nods understandingly._

_“You’re going to be OK,” Paige says. “Just give me a second."_

_She walks away and returns in seconds, holding a glass full of some kind of clear orange liquid. AJ starts in surprise when she takes the glass and feels how cold it is, but she drinks it anyway._  
  
_It slides down her throat smoothly, the taste spreading through her mouth, and she’s sure that she’s never, never tasted anything as good as this… but she has no idea what it tastes like, because the flavour’s gone from her mouth as soon as she swallows, and she can’t quite remember._

_She keeps drinking slowly, feeling the heat leave her body, and by the time she’s reached the bottom of the glass, she’s feeling much, much better._

_Paige takes the glass and sets it down, and AJ looks up into her beautiful brown eyes and sees the concerned look._

_“Thank you,” she whispers._

_“Nothing to thank me for,” Paige says quietly._

_They just stay like that for a second, staring, and then Paige gets up and walks away._

_AJ takes a good look at her, how she’s wearing a thin white sarong that covers her fully, but in the most erotic way possible, clinging to her curves in a way that leaves no room for imagination. She barely has time to gulp before Paige undoes the sarong and lets it fall, her back to AJ._  
  
_And even with her back turned, Paige is the most beautiful thing AJ’s ever seen._

_She wants to fall at Paige’s feet and beg to be allowed to worship her. She wants to pledge her life to Paige if it means she’ll be allowed to see her again. She wants Paige to… she wants Paige._

_Paige doesn’t turn around. Instead, she dives into the pool in one swift, smooth movement, cutting through the bubbles like a human knife._  
  
_AJ cranes her head to watch, suddenly terrified that Paige isn’t going to resurface, but her fears don’t come true: Paige pulls herself out of the pool, stands up and turns back to AJ, smiling._  
  
_“I thought you weren’t going to come back,” AJ whispers._  
  
_Paige walks back to AJ’s chair, slowly and deliberately, and sits down on the end of it._

_“I’ll always come back to you,” she says quietly._

_“Promise?” AJ asks, trying not to beg._

_Paige kisses her._

_She tastes like cream and honey and strawberries, like cola and coffee and sugar, like every delicious taste ever known all mixed together. AJ’s head spins with the combination, and when Paige pulls away, it takes her a few seconds to figure out how to think._

_“I promise,” Paige says gravely._

_AJ nods helplessly, and Paige kisses her again, her lips so soft, her hand caressing AJ’s neck._

_AJ can’t think, because the tastes are swamping her senses, leaving her shipwrecked, unable to focus. All she knows is that Paige is still kissing her, slowly starting to work her way down AJ’s body. Dizzily, she tries to reach out, but her hands touch nothing but empty air._

_Her head is starting to ache, the combined tastes overloading her senses, leaving her too weak to resist, even when the ache becomes too much to bear._

_“Stop,” she gasps, or at least she thinks she does. “Paige… stop it.”_

_She can’t hear herself talk, so she has no idea if she even said it. But Paige abruptly pulls away, and AJ’s senses return abruptly, making her shriek as suddenly everything’s back with a vengeance._

_She curls into a ball, hands over her ears, eyes tightly shut, and when Paige’s hand lands on her shoulder, AJ just moans and pulls away, refusing to look up._  
  
_Through her hands, she hears Paige laugh, but it’s not her, and confused, AJ opens her eyes only to see that Paige is gone, and in her place sits Daniel Bryan._

_Terrified, AJ tries to scramble away, falls off the chair-_

 

  
-and wakes up gasping for air, on the verge of falling off her bed.

Slowly, she pulls the sheets away, gets up and walks to the window.  
  
The familiar sight of the city below calms her, and she takes a few breaths, satisfied that the dream’s over.  
  
Then she looks over at the clock and nods. She’s got an appointment to make.

  
  
The garden is quiet, thankfully, and the wind is cold and crisp, exactly what AJ needs. She sits down on the same bench she sat on a week ago and stares down at the world, waiting.  
  
Five minutes pass, and AJ loses track of time, watching the machine turn, the wind whipping past her face.  
  
She’s watching stragglers running across the road, holding the traffic up, when Paige sits down next to her.  
  
AJ tenses, feeling the hand in her hair, tasting the sweet lips on her mouth, and forces herself to relax.  
  
“Hi,” Paige says quietly.  
  
AJ nods.  
  
“Are you OK?” Paige asks, and AJ rolls her eyes.  
  
“I’m fine,” she says.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Paige says flatly. “For what happened.”  
  
AJ resists the urge to mock her apology; instead, she nods again. No point in being belligerent.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says. “You couldn’t have known.”  
  
“Even so,” Paige responds. “I just… fuck. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Like that, anyway.”  
  
AJ bites her lip and sighs. “Does it change anything? We’ve spent most of this year fucking with each others’ heads.”  
  
“I… I’m going to stop,” Paige says in a rush. “It was funny at first, but now…”  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” AJ says tartly. 

Paige looks almost annoyed. “You did it too.”  
  
“You started the whole thing,” AJ shoots back, and now she’s angry. She hates feeling like this, like she’s fucked up, and she hates Paige for putting her on the defensive in the first place. “You goaded me into challenging you, and then-”  
  
“You did the exact same thing when you came back!” Paige snaps.  
  
“Anything you can do, I can do better,” AJ says in a sing-song tone.  
  
“If you’re just going to act like a child-”  
  
“Coming from _you?_ ”  
  
They’re on their feet, AJ’s fists clenched and Paige’s cheeks flushed with rage.  
  
“I came here to apologise,” Paige spits. “If you’re just going to throw it back in my face because I made a mistake-”  
  
“Challenging me in the first place was your mistake,” AJ snarls.  
  
She knows she’s fucking the whole thing up. She knows that this could still end amiably. She knows that she’s only making everything worse.  
  
But right now, she doesn’t really give a fuck.  
  
“What the fuck is that meant to mean?” Paige shouts.  
  
“It means that I don’t want your fucking apology,” AJ says. “The main roster is _mine_ , understand? It’s _mine._ And you just walked in acting like you had a _right_ to be here-”  
  
“I am just as good as you!” Paige exclaims. “I have _every_ right to be here, and if you really think the main roster just _belongs_ to you, then maybe you really are as crazy as everyone says-”  
  
She cuts off abruptly, her eyes fixed on AJ’s face.  
  
AJ takes a deep breath-

  
  
- _and hears Daniel laughing, Punk talking, Kane’s quiet voice, Dolph’s deadly tone, Cena talking to the audience like she isn’t there-_

  
  
-and lets the hatred she’s feeling show in her eyes.  
  
“I can’t believe I ever thought you were different,” she says quietly. “You’re just another failed pretender who thinks she can measure up to me.”  
  
Paige looks almost uncertain, but she rallies, spitting out a single sentence. “ _I am not a failure.”_  
  
AJ wants to hurt her. She wants to stab her, strangle her, slap her, feel Paige recoiling in pain, hear her scream…  
  
…and now she knows what to say.  
  
She can’t really do the accent that well, but she does her best.

“Everyone’s talking about how great Britani Knight is, and how much potential she has, and you can’t even win a match? What the hell is wrong with you, child? I brought you up better than-”  
  
Paige’s eyes widen in shock as AJ talks, and before she can finish, Paige grabs her by the throat with both hands, her nails biting into AJ’s neck, and AJ wants to scream, but she can’t.  
  
Instead, she claws feebly at Paige’s wrists, locked so tightly in place that they’re like iron.  
  
“Listen to me,” Paige says quietly, and AJ wheezes, trying and failing to breathe. “You do not talk about her. You do not mention her. You do not even _allude_ to her, understand? _Ever._ ”  
  
AJ’s vision is going grey around the edges.  
  
Paige lets go of her throat with one hand and abruptly slaps AJ hard. “I said, _do you fucking understand me?_ ”  
  
AJ manages to nod.  
  
Paige drops her, leaving AJ sprawling over the bench, every breath both a blessing and a curse.  
  
Paige turns around and walks away without another word, and AJ takes a breath, then another, and starts to laugh, a thin, wheezing cackle that carries to the opposite side of the garden.  
  
She sees Paige pause at the head of the stairs, but she doesn’t turn around. Instead, she walks down the stairs and out of sight.  
  
And AJ keeps laughing, curled up on the bench, so happy she’s nearly sick.  
  
That went well.


	4. and i don't even know who i'm lying to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little chaos goes a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I managed to finish this. I have no idea how, but I hope it makes sense and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you so much for reading this- all the love and feedback keeps me going, not even making that up. For the record, I don't watch Total Divas, though my opinion's pretty negative on it, but I'd like to state that while some of AJ's opinions concur with mine, they definitely aren't mine and shouldn't be taken as such. Anyway, <3 to you all.

AJ doesn’t see Paige a lot over the next two weeks, and when she does, it’s certainly not by choice. That being said, she occasionally hears stuff about Paige and Foxy and the cast of _Total Divas_ , not that she wants to, and everything she hears is just _sad._

Well, _Total Divas_ is sad, really. Occasionally it’s funny, in a fourth-rate reality show way, but mostly it just makes AJ depressed… and then it makes her angry.  
  
For a start, it makes her angry that Divas like Cameron and Eva Marie, who should have been either cut or sent down to NXT to actually learn how to wrestle, have become high-profile simply by attaching themselves to a stupid reality show.  
  
It makes her angry that Divas like Naomi and Summer Rae, who are actually pretty decent in the ring, got cut from a stupid reality show and now won’t get any of the spotlight because they’re not as good as AJ but they’re not ‘good’ enough to still be on TV.  
  
It makes her angry that the entire Divas division now revolves around the stupid reality show, having match after match that’s supposed to cater to _Total Divas_ and not letting anyone actually have their feuds.  
  
It makes her angry that the Divas are now in two groups: AJ, Emma (poor, poor Emma), Tamina (and God, AJ misses her _so much_ ), Naomi, Summer Rae and Layla on one side, and the Bellas, Natalya, Cameron, Eva Marie, Paige, Alicia Fox and Rosa Mendes on the other, when they should be one unified group. It’s not like they have anyone else but each other to rely on, so why are they letting people split them?  
  
It makes her angry that the Divas on _Total Divas_ get precedence over the ones who aren’t in what’s blatant discrimination.  
  
And it really makes her angry that Survivor Series 2013 was such a massive clusterfuck, with that ridiculous tag team match- and the rematch as well.

(Oh, AJ got the message. She got it real good.)

But AJ can’t change any of that. As much as she’d like to.  
  
So all she can do is make damn sure that she’s still miles better than anyone on the show.  
  
Excepting Paige. Maybe. _Maybe._  
  
Still. Paige is hardly a problem now, given that AJ hardly- if ever- sees her.  
  
And AJ is just fine with that.

 

  
  
A week and a half later, she’s backstage at _Raw_ , skipping backstage with her baby over her arm as always, when a familiar voice grates on her ears.  
  
“I don’t _know_ why I don’t have a match, Foxy, it’s bloody ridiculous.”  
  
Oh. Her.  
  
AJ stops skipping and pauses, considering what she's heard as she carefully doesn't go anywhere near them.  
  
A second later, someone crashes into her, sending her face-first into the wall.

 _Ow_.  
  
“Move, damn it,” a husky, familiar voice says. “I got places to be.”

Oh. Him. Well.

AJ pulls herself away from the wall, rubs her face and turns, smiling a little. “Hello, Dean,” she says happily.  
  
“AJ,” Dean says. He's chewing some gum, his eyes going straight to her tits until he reminds himself that her eyes are actually not on her chest. “Any reason you’re holding up traffic?”  
  
She looks around and realises that they’re actually in a fairly well-travelled corridor, and there are in fact a number of backstage personnel and other wrestlers who are being held up by their conversation, but none of them seem willing to actually say anything about it.

Hmmm. Maybe she should cut them a break.

She pulls Dean to one side, lets the others go past, and smiles.

“I felt like it,” she says, giving him a long, appreciative look. "Do I really need a reason?"  
  
It’s not that she particularly wants to date him. It’s just… well. The Shield-as-was consisted of three exceptionally pretty boys. And AJ likes pretty boys. She likes them a lot.  
  
She never really wanted to date the Shield, as such. She just wanted them to take their shirts off and kiss a lot. And then maybe fuck. While she watched.  
  
She’s a simple girl, with simple wishes. God, it’s not a crime.  
  
He returns the stare with interest. “I can understand that,” he says. “You haven’t seen a certain two-toned rat-faced traitor scumbag around, have you?”  
  
AJ tilts her head, thinking about this. “No,” she says finally, though regretfully. She’d love it if Dean owed her a favour.  
  
From the way he’s looking at her, he’d probably love owing her a favour.  
  
“Too bad,” he says. “If you do, tell me. I’d love to help you out with your problem. If you get what I mean.”  
  
“My problem?” AJ asks curiously, though she's bristling a little inside, because if  _Dean Ambrose_  says anything about her mental stability, she'll fuck him up.  
  
“You know. The pretender to your throne.”  
  
“Oh. Oh! Her,” AJ says, almost relieved. She nods, catches the sly grin on his face, and giggles.

"Hmmm," she says slowly, trying not to consider a three-way with Paige and Dean, and failing. “I’ll have to think about that.”  
  
He grins at her in a way that should be illegal and walks away, and AJ skips off in the opposite direction, her mind full of blissfully pornographic thoughts.  
  
She makes sure that when she stops to think next, it’s not in a place where anyone is going to crash into her.  
  
Instead, she perches up on some boxes and muses.  
  
Yes, on the one hand, Paige is a problem, and she needs to be dealt with. On the other hand, though, Dean's proposed solution has some merit, but she can't really take it that seriously. She's not sure that it'd really help that much.  
  
That being said, it would be remiss of her not to carefully consider this solution, and in the end-

 

- _she doesn't care because all she can feel is_ _Paige’s mouth on hers, Dean’s head between her thighs, and AJ’s moaning so loudly they can probably hear her in the next state but it doesn’t matter because holy_ fuck _that's_  amazing _and-_

 

-she only remembers that her match is next when she hears someone calling her name.  
  
Her match is with Natalya, and AJ wastes no time in beating seven kinds of hell out of her. Natalya puts up a decent defence, but AJ never forgives and never forgets, and after everything Natalya’s had the temerity to do- AJ still gets twinges in her back whenever she thinks of the Divas of Doom- AJ loves paying her back with interest.  
  
It’s non-title, of course, though it wouldn’t have mattered if it were. Natalya’s just not in the same class as AJ, and _Total Divas_ or no _Total Divas_ , she’s not getting AJ’s title.  
  
So she skips backstage afterwards, swinging her baby, and when she hears Paige’s voice grating on her ears again, she makes sure to stop nearby and stare, just like Paige did to her all those weeks ago.

It takes Paige a few minutes to notice that something’s wrong, and then she turns, first looking surprised, then suspicious. 

AJ smiles sweetly and blows her a kiss, and then before Paige can react, she skips away, giggling inside.

That should give her something to think about.

  
  
  
The next day, AJ’s curled up on her bed, watching movies with her baby, when someone knocks on her door.  
  
AJ pauses the movie, curious. It’s late evening. She wasn’t expecting anyone.  
  
Hmmm.  
  
She gets up and walks to the door, intrigued.  
  
She’s a little too short to look through the peephole, which is annoying as fuck, but she can deal with it. She puts the chain on, anyway.  
  
Carefully, she cracks the door open and pauses.  
  
Huh.  
  
“AJ!” Paige exclaims, and AJ instantly realises that she’s drunk. “Oh my God, where have you _been?_ ”  
  
“What do you want, Paige?” AJ asks flatly.  
  
Paige swallows, tries to talk and ends up falling against the door with a _thud_ , her legs barely holding her up. “I want… to… you. To talk. To you. Yeah?”  
  
On the one hand, it’s Paige. On the other hand, this has lots of potential to be fucking hilarious. And AJ likes a good laugh as much as anyone.  
  
She takes the chain off and opens the door.  
  
As the door opens, Paige stumbles inside and falls, barely managing to land on her hands and knees instead of flat on her face. She sways, propping herself up with a hand, but she doesn’t fall. “AJ!”

“Yeeeeeeeees?” AJ asks in her sing-song voice.  
  
“Your carpet… is so _fluffy_.”  
  
AJ blinks. “Is it?”  
  
Instead of answering, Paige's arms give out, and she hits the carpet hard. She mumbles something AJ can’t understand, tries to get up and fails.  
  
AJ looks around, shrugs and sits down on the floor next to Paige. She rubs the carpet a little, and pauses as she realises the truth in Paige’s words: the carpet is _hella fluffy._  
  
Paige mutters something else, and with a sigh, AJ grabs her shoulder and, after some pulling, manages to roll her over.  
  
“Holy shit,” Paige says as she lands on her back, her eyes wide with shock. “Your ceiling.”  
  
AJ looks up, confused. It’s just a normal ceiling, an off-white with a spiderweb- but no spider, sadly- in the corner. “What about it?”

“It’s… it’s… a ceiling.” Paige looks over at AJ and starts laughing, in a weirdly lopsided way. “I am _so drunk._ ”  
  
“Yeaaaaaah,” AJ says, shrugging ruefully. “You kind of are.”  
  
“And you’re so pretty!” Paige exclaims in wonder. “How do you _do_ that?”  
  
AJ tries not to giggle. “It’s a gift.”  
  
“If it’s a gift, can I have it?” Paige asks plaintively, a pleading look in her eyes. “I’ll be good. Or… good. More good. For Christmas?”  
  
“You’re already pretty,” AJ says truthfully, holding her laughter back. She hasn’t found anything as funny as this for a long time.  
  
“You think so?” Paige asks, looking amazed.  
  
AJ nods sincerely, a second away from losing it.  
  
“Oh my God, why can’t we just fuck already?” Paige asks, sounding exasperated.  
  
AJ freezes, not sure if she actually just heard that. “ _What.”_  
  
“You’re so pretty,” Paige says, irritated like she can’t understand why AJ doesn’t get it. “And I’m pretty. And we made out that one time. So why can’t we just fuck?”  
  
Well, it’s certainly a compelling argument.

“Please?” Paige asks, trying to look cute and managing to resemble a drunken puppy who fell down some stairs.

With one rather pressing flaw, unfortunately.

“You’re drunk, Paige,” AJ says patiently.  
  
“Soooo?” Paige asks. “I’m drunk a lot. Foxy doesn’t mind.”  
  
“I don’t fuck drunk people,” AJ explains, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Why not?” Paige protests, slamming her hand down on the carpet and looking faintly surprised at the lack of noise that results.

“Because you’re too drunk to consent,” AJ says flatly, hoping the blunt words will get through to Paige. “Also, I guarantee that tomorrow, you probably won’t remember any of this, and what you do remember, you’ll only regret.”  
  
Paige waves her other hand like she’s trying to flag down a plane. “Who cares? I _like_ you.”  
  
“Paige, the last time we talked, you tried to strangle me,” AJ reminds her, though she’s not even bitter. It doesn’t matter- she’s had worse, and it was pretty damn funny once the bruises faded.  
  
“That was _one time!”_ Paige protests indignantly. “God!”  
  
“You put me in hospital that other time,” AJ says, rubbing her neck as it twinges.  
  
“All you had to do was give me the stupid title!” Paige responds, annoyed. “And then we could have fucked. A lot.”  
  
“You took the title off me at _Summerslam_ ,” AJ continues. “And we didn’t fuck after that.” 

Yeah, that entire match was kind of a clusterfuck. Best not to go there.

“Soooo? I’ll make up for it,” Paige says, her smile huge and lopsided. “I’ll give you _extra_.”  
  
Fuck, that’s not fair.

“Paige, we’re not fucking,” AJ says flatly.  
  
“Not fair!” With that, Paige rolls onto her side and tries to get up, managing to get her right hand and knee up. Unfortunately, her arm bends, sending her crashing down onto AJ.  
  
AJ hits the carpet with an _oof_ , and Paige tries to get up, staring down at AJ like a small child who can’t fathom what to do, having accidentally smashed the cookie jar while trying to get the cookies out.  
  
“Oops,” she mutters.  
  
“Paige…” AJ says, unable to think of what to say next. “Just… just don’t, OK?”  
  
Paige looks like she’s trying to be in tears. “But… but…”  
  
“But _no,_ ” AJ says firmly, trying to shove her off.  
  
A sound hits her ear and she pauses, listening.  
  
Someone’s… running. Along the corridor. Hmmm.  
  
“I’m sorry I strangled you,” Paige says sadly. “You just… you talked. About her.”  
  
AJ doubts her sincerity, but she doesn’t particularly give a fuck. This is _hilarious_.  
  
“Paige!” someone calls from the corridor, and AJ groans. She knows that voice.  
  
Paige sits up, her hands braced on AJ’s thighs, and it’s hard enough to hurt. “Foxy?”  
  
“Paige, where are you?” Foxy calls.  
  
“I’m here!” Paige replies happily.  
  
“Where the fuck is _here?_ ”  
  
“ _Here!_ ” Paige repeats.  
  
AJ slumps back against the carpet and giggles.  
  
“You’re not helping, Paige!”  
  
“I’m _here!”_ Paige shouts, annoyed. “Right here!”  
  
Foxy finally skids to a halt in the doorway and freezes when she sees what’s happening.  
  
It helps, AJ thinks dimly, that Paige is on top of her, and not the other way around. Then she’d really be fucked, and not in a good way.  
  
“Paige,” Foxy asks slowly, “what are you doing?”  
  
“AJ!” Paige exclaims. “I want to be doing AJ! But she won’t let me! And her carpet is so fucking fluffy! It needs to stop _doing_ that!”  
  
“She’s drunk,” AJ says, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t do drunk people.”  
  
“At least you’ve got _some_ morals,” Foxy says, and AJ silently resolves to beat the fuck out of her in their next match as payback for that little comment. “Paige, for God’s sake, get off her.”  
  
“I _want_ to get her off!” Paige says plaintively.  
  
“Not what I said, Paige,” Foxy says, rolling her eyes.  
  
She leans down and manages to get Paige back on her feet, but Paige is visibly swaying, and Foxy has to hold her up. AJ sits up, leaning against the wall, and winces as blood rushes back into her legs.  
  
“Foxy?” Paige asks, her voice almost quiet.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Why is the room spinning?”  
  
_Ah, shit,_ AJ thinks.  
  
Paige sways even more, and Foxy only just manages to hold her up when her legs fold.  
  
“Don’t throw up on my carpet, please,” AJ says tartly.  
  
“Then get her a fucking bucket!” Foxy snaps. "Or something!"  
  
AJ grabs the wall, hauls herself up and walks into the bathroom, wobbling a little at first. She doesn’t clean a lot, but at least the bucket’s easy to find, stashed away in the bottom of the bathroom cupboard with the rest of her cleaning stuff.

She grabs it, and with Foxy’s help, she manages to get Paige seated almost neatly on the floor, her arms wrapped around the bucket.  
  
Then they wait.  
  
It’s even more awkward than it should be, because AJ doesn’t have one goddamn thing to say to Foxy, so the only sound in the room is Paige mumbling about everything from tiny baby bunnies to the carpet. Again.  
  
“What the hell is it with you and my carpet?” AJ asks finally.  
  
Paige looks up at her, her eyes huge and sad and beautiful, and says almost tearfully, “It’s so _fluffy_.”  
  
Then she throws up.

Several disgusting minutes later, Paige is leaning against the wall, her eyes shut. She’s surprisingly silent.  
  
AJ and Foxy trade a glance.  
  
“Think she’s done?” Foxy asks.  
  
AJ shrugs. “Maybe?”  
  
Paige throws up again, and both women sigh.  
  
“I realise you want the show to succeed,” AJ says, “but while this would probably be a huge ratings draw, I think you should keep this little escapade off of _Total Divas_ , right?"  
  
Foxy nods slowly. “Hey, it’s not like anyone’s recording this.”  
  
“What the hell was she drinking, anyway?” AJ asks.  
  
“Whisky,” Foxy says glumly. “And lots of it. She and Nikki got in a drinking contest.”  
  
That’s a terrifying thought, to say the least.  
  
Though, admittedly, it does make AJ kind of happy to think of Nikki Bella throwing up on John Cena. Or Brie. Or preferably, both of them at the same time.

Brie has such terrible taste in men, after all.

“Who won?” AJ asks curiously.  
  
Foxy shrugs. “No idea. I went after her.”  
  
“I hate everything,” Paige mumbles from the depths of the bucket.  
  
Foxy sighs. “No, you don’t. Are you done?”

Paige mumbles something that AJ suspects is along the lines of ‘Just go away and let me die’, and Foxy rolls her eyes. “Come on, Paige. Let’s get you home.”  
  
AJ helps her get Paige to her feet, and then she gets to watch Foxy escorting Paige home, Paige’s arms still wrapped around the bucket.

Ten seconds after they leave her sight, she’s laughing so hard that she’s on the floor again.

That sure was a thing. A wonderful, wonderful thing.

  
  
  
Two days later, having seen exactly zero traces of Paige or Foxy, AJ and her baby are surfing the ‘net, looking into the vast, mysterious depths of various wrestling sites when there’s a knock at the door.  
  
And oh, she is not surprised when it turns out to be Paige again.  
  
This time, however, she’s bearing a very clean bucket.  
  
And for some strange reason, she won’t look AJ in the eye.  
  
_Gee, I wonder why._  
  
AJ folds her arms. “Hello, Paige.”  
  
Paige mumbles something, and AJ raises her eyebrows. “Sorry, what was that?”  
  
“I came to say sorry,” Paige says, a little louder. “And to…”  
  
She gestures vaguely with the bucket, and AJ giggles. “You should probably come in.”  
  
Paige reluctantly steps inside, and AJ shuts the door behind her and skips off to her lounge room.  
  
She makes sure to shut the computer, before moving her baby to her other side, where Paige can’t reach her.  
  
Then she sits down on the couch and waits, as demure as a nun. Or something. Whatever.

She doesn't think that Paige will just leave. After all, where would the fun be in that?  
  
A few seconds later, she hears a light _thunk_ , such as might be made by someone setting a bucket down on a tiled floor, and then Paige enters, looking awkward.  
  
“Sit down,” AJ says, trying not to grin. “I won’t offer you a drink, though. Not after, well…”  
  
“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Paige mutters, sitting down on the other end of AJ’s couch, as far away as she can manage without actually falling off.  
  
“I didn’t invite you to get drunk and come on to me. Literally,” AJ reminds her.  
  
Paige’s head falls into her hands. “I am _so sorry_ about that. Really.”  
  
“Apology accepted,” AJ says with a shrug. “But just a question: are you sorry for doing it, or are you sorry for doing it while you were drunk?”  
  
“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Paige asks incredulously.  
  
“An honest one,” AJ says unapologetically. With the boyfriends she’s had, she’s learned how to phrase a question to get a real answer.  
  
Paige sighs. “Look, AJ, you know I like you… sort of…”  
  
“Thanks,” AJ mutters, even though she knows what Paige means.  
  
“And yeah, OK, maybe we made out that one time…”  
  
“Yeeeeeees?” AJ asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.  
  
“But it’s not like we actually get along,” Paige finishes, looking almost apologetic... even though she has no reason to be even slightly remorseful. Hmmm. That’s weird.  
  
AJ sighs and bites the bullet. “I’m sorry. For what I said.”  
  
Paige blinks and stares. “What?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” AJ repeats uncomfortably. She doesn't like apologising even at the best of times, and this is an apology she's been thinking about for a while. “For what I said last time. I went too far.”  
  
Paige just keeps staring at her.  
  
“And OK, maybe I should have tried not being stubborn and all that when you tried to make it right…”  
  
Paige looks like a statue.  
  
AJ shrugs, unsure of what else to say. “So… sorry?”  
  
“Did you seriously just apologise to me?” Paige asks incredulously.  
  
AJ recoils defensively. “What, am I not allowed to do that?”  
  
Paige realises her mistake instantly. “No! No, no, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just… wasn’t expecting it.” She coughs. “And, uh, sorry for calling you… the c-word. The _other_ c-word.”  
  
AJ nods decisively, even as a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of that damn  _word_. “Apology accepted.”  
  
“Yeah. Likewise.”  
  
There’s yet another awkward silence, and then AJ sighs. “So… now what?”  
  
“I should probably be going,” Paige says, almost jumping to her feet.  
  
“Do you have to?” AJ asks, and the words come out of her mouth before she knows that she’s saying anything.  
  
There’s a long, awkward pause, the kind of pause where everyone involved has to ask themselves if they really just heard that.  
  
“You don’t want me to go?” Paige asks like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.  
  
AJ’s frozen, her mind frantically considering every option she’s got, and she can barely breathe because _what the fuck did she just do._

_What. The fuck._

To her credit, Paige obviously realises that something’s wrong, and she tentatively leans over and puts a hand on AJ’s shoulder. Somehow, the feeling is comforting, not terrifying. “Are you OK?”

AJ swallows and forces herself to suck in a deep breath. OK. Calm down. It’s not that big a deal. Just try to keep calm.

“I’m fine,” she manages.

“OK,” Paige says soothingly, and AJ’s instant panic turns to anger, because she doesn’t need soothing and she doesn’t need pity. Fuck that. “Should I leave you alone? Until you feel better, I mean?” 

“Um,” AJ replies eloquently. “No. I’m… I’m fine. Really.”

There’s a fleeting look on Paige’s face like she thinks that was bullshit, and it was, but AJ just feels even more pissed off because Paige just has this fucking way of _knowing_ and it’s infuriating.

“So… uh. What did you say?” Paige asks carefully, like she’s expecting AJ to freak out again, and AJ wants to fucking _slap_ her. She hates it when people look at her like that, like she’s some fucking wild animal, cornered and ready to snap and bite someone. Like she doesn’t know how to act around _real_ people. Like she can’t be trusted to play nice.

“Don’t do that,” she says instead. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Look at you like… OK, right, sorry,” Paige says, and AJ grits her teeth, but she knows it’s not Paige’s fault that she can’t do the right thing.

Honestly, she’s not sure if there _is_ a right thing right now.

Maybe Paige was right. Maybe she should just ask Paige to leave and they can try again some other time.

Maybe they shouldn’t, because last time they tried to do it right, AJ goaded Paige into strangling her and to be honest, she still isn’t sure why she did it except that it was fucking funny.

“OK,” AJ says quietly. “Um. It was something you said. Last time. I know you were trashed, but…"

“Something I said?” Paige asks curiously, and AJ realises that Paige probably doesn’t remember much of what happened. Just like she’d predicted.  
  
“Uh. Well. You asked me why we couldn’t just fuck. I mean, we’re still after the same title, and we don’t really _like_ each other, and you’re on _Total Divas_ , and you turned up at my door drunk and came on to me for ten minutes straight while you rambled about my carpet…”

AJ is painfully aware that she’s now the one who’s rambling, but the look on Paige’s face is more than making up for it.  
  
“Did I do that?” Paige asks, wide-eyed.

AJ even manages a giggle. “Foxy didn’t tell you?”

“She said I got drunk and barged into your place and threw up,” Paige says. “And that I got kinda flirty, but she didn’t say anything about… all of that.”

“Ask her,” AJ says with a shrug. “It’s true.”

Paige has a deer-in-the-headlights look, and AJ giggles again. “So… uh, what’s your point, exactly?”  
  
AJ shrugs again, and decides to be honest, even though being honest never ends well. “We don’t have to like each other to fuck,” she says. “We don’t have to date to fuck. We don’t have to be in love to fuck. And we don’t have to tell anyone else about it to fuck. We can just leave everyone else out of it. You know. If you wanted.”  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Paige says incredulously. “You can't be... Christ. You’re serious?”  
  
“I don’t like you,” AJ admits. “But dear God, you’re so fucking hot.”  
  
Paige looks like she can’t believe that any of it’s happening. “AJ, come on, you can’t be serious-”

Talk is pointless. AJ gets up, walks over and kisses Paige.

Paige tastes like chocolate and nervousness, but that’s not a problem. Not when AJ’s hands are around her neck again, and they’re pressed up against each other so closely that they're almost wearing the same shirt. Not when Paige’s tongue slips into her mouth and AJ moans a little at the feeling. Not, in fact, when AJ is turned on so much that she doesn’t give a fuck about anything any more.  
  
Paige pulls away, her expression mixed, and AJ sighs a little. She wants more. She wants to push Paige down and kiss her again. She wants to curl up on the couch with Paige and kiss her until her lips ache. 

But Paige is talking, and AJ needs to pay attention. “You really mean it?”  
  
AJ rolls her eyes. “What, this isn’t enough for you?”  
  
Paige pushes her hair away from her face and licks her lips. “Maybe I need convincing.”  
  
AJ barely manages to supress her grin. Instead, she pulls her shirt off. “I think I can do that.”

  
  
  
Hours later, they’re lying in AJ’s bed, the silence so thick you could cut it. AJ's curled up in a ball, staring at the side wall, while Paige is on her back, looking up at the ceiling.  
  
The only sound in the room is their breathing, and AJ has no idea what to think.  
  
“So what do we do now?” Paige asks after a while, shattering the silence, the sound making AJ cringe.  
  
“Who says we have to do anything?” AJ asks, her voice small.  
  
She’s feeling the same thing she always gets after sex, the mix of doubt, worthlessness and depression that makes her want to run and hide and never come out again, the feeling that not only makes her wonder if she should have done that, but if it was worth it, if anything was worth it, if her _existence_ was worth it.  
  
Usually she ends up deciding that the answer to all her questions is no, and then she drinks herself unconscious and wakes up the next morning with a really shitty hangover that makes her swear off sex for the next decade.  
  
It never sticks.  
  
“Well, I just mean, if we-”  
  
“We’re not dating, Paige,” AJ says flatly. “We’re not girlfriends. We’re not friends. We’re not friends with benefits, or enemies with benefits. We’re just two women who happen to have fucked once.”  
  
“That’s it?” Paige asks, sitting up. “That’s all?”  
  
“What did you expect?” AJ asks, not looking at her. “That everything was suddenly going to be all right just because you got me off?”  
  
She remembers-

  
- _Paige’s hands on her thighs, Paige’s tongue inside her, circling around her clit, making her moan and come harder than she had in_ years, _and it’s just_ -

  
-what happened, and shakes her head a little. “Not how it works. Trust me, I know. I’ve been there. A lot.”  
  
Her voice is sad and bitter, and she closes her eyes, trying to forget every time she tried to make things better and failed.  
  
“So, what, we just walk out of here and go back to hating each other?” Paige asks. “We just keep fighting over the stupid fucking title-”  
  
“It’s not stupid,” AJ snaps. “ _She_ isn’t stupid.”  
  
“It’s not a she, AJ. It’s an _it_. It’s a fucking piece of metal attached to a belt that was designed by some fucking idiot who thinks all women love Barbie dolls, and it’s-”  
  
“Shut up,” AJ says. “Just… just shut the fuck up.”  
  
Paige at least has the intelligence to shut the fuck up for once.  
  
Paige doesn’t _get it_. She’ll never get it. She doesn’t get what the title means to AJ. Yeah, OK, maybe the title's terribly designed and looks fucking stupid, but it’s not what she looks like, it’s what she represents.  
  
To AJ, the title _is_ respect.  
  
She spent a year as the resident punching bag of the WWE, the useless slut for every top superstar to kick around, fuck occasionally and dump as soon as he got sick of her. But when she won the title, when she prised it out of Kaitlyn’s hands and clutched it to her own chest, she _forced_ people to respect her. She forced them to see her as something other than the resident psycho ex-girlfriend who threw herself at anything with a dick and a pulse, a waste of space for people to pity and use and throw away as they saw fit.  
  
She needs the title. She _needs_ it. With the title, people have to take her seriously. With the title, people _have_ to respect her and treat her like an actual human being, and not a walking punchline.   
  
Sure, to Paige, the title represents the top, the highest place a Diva can reach, solid proof that she’s the best, but she doesn’t need it like AJ needs it.  
  
She’ll never get it.  
  
“Do we have to go back to hating each other?” Paige asks quietly.  
  
“Who said anything about _go back to_?” AJ asks. “I didn’t stop hating you just because you ate me out.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Like I said, Paige,” AJ says, finally rolling over to face her. “I don’t have to like you to fuck you. And if you really think that fucking me is going to change my attitude-”

"What the fuck is it with you?" Paige asks. "You go from reasonable to bitchy in two seconds-"

AJ takes a deep breath, lets it out and closes her eyes. _Stay calm_ , she tells herself. _She's right. You're not being reasonable._

After a minute, she tries again, and she sounds considerably less angry this time. "Did you really think that sleeping together was going to change anything? That's not how it works, Paige."

“So that’s it?” Paige says quietly. “I just, I just walk out of here and this never happened?”  
  
“I never said that,” AJ says impatiently.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don’t like you,” AJ repeats. “But you’re good at this. You’re _really_ good. Maybe we’re still after the same title, but we can still fuck sometimes.”  
  
“What, that’s it?” Paige asks, sounding almost outraged. “That’s all there is?”  
  
“You don’t fucking know anything,” AJ says bitterly. “You’re twenty-two, for fuck’s sake. You don’t fucking know shit. You think it has to be about love. Or like.” She snorts. “I don’t think I was ever as young as you.”  
  
“Don’t treat me like a dumb kid,” Paige snaps. “I’ve been doing this for longer than _you_ have.”  
  
“Big deal,” AJ says quietly. “It doesn’t matter, this isn’t a pissing contest. Anyway, who wants love? Love only fucks things up.”  
  
“That’s really what you think?” Paige asks, incredulous. “That’s it? Seriously?”  
  
AJ wants to tell her to go fuck herself, but she manages to rein herself in. “That’s it,” she says quietly. “Don’t fucking tell me how to think, Paige. If you don’t want me again-”  
  
“Oh, I want you again,” Paige says defiantly. “But don’t treat me like a kid, AJ.”  
  
AJ ignores that in favour of the most pressing issue. “Well, if you want this to keep going, we’re going to keep it quiet,” she says. “I’m not going to have this dragged out and splashed all over TV on _Total Divas_. You can keep your shitty fake fights and pseudo-lesbianism click bait stories, I don’t want anything to do with it.”  
  
Paige opens her mouth to protest, thinks better of it and nods. “But… OK. I get you. No _Total Divas._ ”  
  
“And nobody else finds out,” AJ says. “Not Foxy, not Triple H or Stephanie, not Kaitlyn, nobody. Shouldn’t be hard. We’re not dating. We’re not friends. We just fuck sometimes.”  
  
Paige doesn’t reply. Instead, she rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, thinking.  
  
AJ waits.  
  
“OK,” Paige says finally, and AJ knows it’s bullshit. How many people who were told to tell no one managed to actually do it? How many made an exception for that one person?

And Paige is no different. Foxy’s probably going to know within an hour of Paige going home. But AJ won't. Nobody's going to find out from her.

That being said, even knowing that half the Division will probably know within two days, AJ’s having trouble caring.

Fuck it. She’s shown everyone that she doesn’t give a fuck what they think before. If she has to break a few heads and do it again, then fine. That’s exactly what she’ll do.

“So we’re clear?” AJ asks.

Paige nods, a little hesitantly, and AJ sighs.

Maybe she’s been a little too bitchy.

Still. Does it matter? In the end, does it really matter?

Probably not.

So she elects to find a distraction. 

“Good,” she says. “Get over here and kiss me.”

Paige complies, and AJ presses herself up against Paige, kissing her greedily to distract herself.  
  
The thought crosses her mind for an instant that there’s no possible way that this can end well. Probably everyone’s going to find out, and it’ll end up on _Total Divas_ , and she’ll have everyone laughing at her again, and Paige will fall in love with her and everything’s just going to go to hell.

But fuck it. If this is going to go to hell, she’ll take as many of the bastards as she can with her, however she can.

So she kisses Paige harder, enjoying those damn _noises_ she makes, and resolutely pushes all other thoughts from her mind.  
  
Maybe she’s lying to herself. Maybe she’s in denial. Maybe this is all just a vain effort to prevent herself from getting sad and lonely and ending up with nobody but a title to talk to.

(Yeah, like that'd ever happen.)

AJ isn't daunted by the prospect of imminent disaster. She's seen everything go to hell too many times to care.

So she wraps an arm around Paige's waist and makes her decision: no matter what happens, she'll do what she does for herself, and for no one else.

She owes it to herself, after everything that's happened.

Everyone else can go fuck themselves, because AJ Lee is nobody's toy, nobody's plaything, nobody's punching bag, and she's better than everybody who even tries to measure themselves against her by far.

And that's just how it should be.


End file.
